The Epic Battle Tournament
by ServanttotheTallest
Summary: Sequel to HSG. "I was berating myself already, but my curiosity was getting the better of me now that I was more awake- now that I had something small in my stomach. I inhaled. 'Wait.' I undid the latch. On top of the cookie cake was a short paragraph written in cherry frosting." A Hunger Games/Invader Zim-esque...thing.
1. The Conference

**Author's Note: This story is dedicated to all the loyal fans who were utterly patient with me throughout the nearly three years it took to finish Hi Skool Girl. If you haven't read it, you probably should read it first if you're going to read this. This takes place three months after the last chapter of HSG. **

**A bit about the character Hannah: She began as a self-insert, but that was discontinued a long time ago for many reasons. It's difficult to write a good story with a self-insert, because the process can interfere with both the story and one's life. By the time this aspect of her character changed, it was too late for me to change her name. So she's not me, but as my protagonist, I still identify with her. If that makes any sense at all, I applaud you.**

**I'll be responding to reviews as usual, and I really would appreciate feedback. Thank you, and I hope you all enjoy the story! As always, all credit for anything good in here goes to God.**

* * *

_**The Epic Battle Tournament**_

_**Part 1: Play**_

**Chapter 1: The Conference**

Boots thumped against pink metal. Dressed in magenta uniforms, the horde marched toward the edifice, bunching up as the entrance to the circular hall filled with people.

"I hear we're getting cake."

"Do you know what our next move is?"

"We're going to learn."

"Hurry up, I have to save three seats!"

"I think this entire ceasefire thing is stupid. We should have blown the Resisty out of the sky when we crippled them on Callnowia."

"You know we couldn't have done that."

"Oh, yes, we could have."

"I heard—"

A Conventia robot performed a final scan before waving the Irkens through. As they dispersed to find refreshments and seats, talking diminished.

"Whatever our next move is," one spoke, "at least we'll strike first."

* * *

The last time I'd been here, the stage had had a different lineup. Setting the platter of cinnamon donuts on a table, I let my gaze drift to the green-and-magenta mass below the balcony—pulsing, frenziedly snacking people. Beside my chair was a chair for Skoodge. _The sad thing is, that isn't a joke._ Our seats, and the two they flanked, at the balcony's edge, all faced the stage.

As the lights dimmed. I checked the table—drinks, donuts, napkins, and plenty of ice—_good. _The crowd had become louder with the partial lighting loss.

"_Welcome, Irken citizens, to the Empire's cease-ceasefire meeting! Please, take your seats and your portion of snacks, and give a warm welcome to two individuals who need no introduction, but are going to get one anyway."_

Cheering. I smirked and my gaze found the ceiling above the stage. _They're brilliant. This is good prep. This is all good._

"_Welcome your shiningly spectacular leaders, who won you the first phase of the Irken—Resisty war, and who will forever be enshrined as the coolest Irkens of all time, your Almighty Tallest!"_ The people became raving head cases. The platform hissed and slowly descended after several seconds. I gave a wave the Tallest wouldn't see. A streamer bomb exploded over the audience. Someone somewhere had an air horn. The platform finally reached the stage.

"Welcome, citizens of the Empire!" Purple spoke first. _Rare, but not undone._ The crowd gradually quieted. "Today, we'll be discussing plans for the continuation our the war with the Resisty."

Red was next. "Our peace treaty with the rebels ends in two weeks. We aim to have a plan for if the Resisty strike first." His next words held a smirk. "But they won't be striking first, now will they?"

Voices. An air horn. Another streamer bomb.

"That's enough!" Purple called. "Today, for once in our amazing lives, we won't be the only ones speaking. We've invited the elites and Rarl Kove to have a say."

"No need," Red amended, "to throw anything, though. Show them respect."

"Though not as much as us."

"Tallest _rock_!" The third streamer bomb had white sparks.

"Enough with the explosions!" Red said. "I don't want to get bombed in the balcony at a ceasefire meeting." A ripple of laughter swept the auditorium. Red looked up toward me and my heart skipped a beat.

"Now," Purple said, "welcome to the stage, with a moderate amount of applause, our advisor, Rarl Kove!" Rarl ascended the stairs and smiled lightly at the crowd. "Take it away, Kove." Purple jabbed a finger at him. "Just don't break anything."

A salute. "Yes, my Tallest." Red and Purple moved towards the first floor exit. "Hello, everyone. I'm here to talk to you about—"

"Sorry I'm late." Skoodge's voice pulled my attention to the door of the balcony. The short Irken, looking winded, pushed in a rolling tray. On it, a collection of sloppily-frosted ding-dongs flocked.

"Hey, Skoodge, those aren't acceptable." _And he doesn't have time to get new ones._ "You're lucky I brought enough donuts."

Skoodge sighed. "Sorry. I didn't have time." He dumped the tray onto the table, and it almost knocked off the ice bucket. "I tried to convince Slacks to work the tech panel, but he said he's too tall, so I tried to talk Zim into doing it, and he wouldn't even let me say, 'Zim, I've gotta move on and take care of important, Empirely things…like frosting ding-dongs.' Plus, the kitchen traffic was so bad that my commute up here took ten minutes."

The doors opened again. The Tallest entered the balcony, more striking in my immediate vicinity. I looked at Skoodge. "Ten minutes?"

"…More or less."

Red nodded. "Hello." His tone wasn't as professional as it had just—something in which I took pride. Skoodge and I greeted them.

When Purple spotted Skoodge's tray, he frowned, and my heart sank. "What are those?"

Fidgeting, Skoodge responded, "They're…uh…they're…"

"For Skoodge and me." I grabbed the tray. "Sorry they were there—I told him to make them and they weren't supposed to be there." I caught Skoodge's look out of the corner of my eye.

"…Okay then." Purple seized the donuts and sat beside Red to watch. He next spoke through a mouth full of crumbs. "Look. Cinnamon."

Red took one and threw a grin over his shoulder. "You're the best."

I felt myself smile, quickly turned to watch the stage, and mentally willed myself to not blush. _Get drinks_. I made eye contact with Skoodge and nodded, feeling grateful I'd had him to help me for the past three months. Rarl was still speaking when I took my seat. "My plan involves strategy primarily—we have to fight smarter this time. Thank you." A bow, and conservative applause. "Welcome my colleague, who, I just thought I'd point out, is two inches shorter than me. Commander Zee's team is one of the most prestigious in the Armada." He smirked. "Unfortunately, she won't be getting to the refreshments before me."

"I could get used to this." Purple gestured around at the balcony. "It's nice not to have to smile and wave the entire time."

Red popped another donut in his mouth. "Is 'oo 'ressfl."

I grinned. "What was that?" Red mirrored my grin as best he could and uttered an extremely articulate answer.

"Shum umph."

Skoodge and I broke down into giggles as Zee began to speak.

Red swallowed. "I said shut up." He pointed to Skoodge. "And I know you made those pastries for us, so get me a refill."

Skoodge's eyes widened. "Right away."

Ruby eyes met mine. "Intimidating new help is entertaining."

"You did plenty of it when I first got here."

"Remember the first sandwich you made him?" Purple smirked.

I frowned. "No."

"It had a hideous mustard-mayo ratio. One to twenty-seven or something."

"Well. Sorry."

Skoodge handed Red a glass and took his own seat.

"Resisty activity," Zee was saying, "around Meekrob has been sparser recently. Callnowia has been left alone, too. What the rebels don't know is that we still have eyes on Meekrob through invader Tenn's old underground base. That and citizen allies could aid us in a potential surprise attack if the rebels ever camped there."

I felt my eyebrows rise. "Tenn's stuff is still active on Meekrob?"

"I propose we take advantage of this by striking first. What better place than Meekrob, where it all began? Let's intimidate them again!"

A cry of, "Yeah!" from below. More exclamations of approval.

Red nodded. "That's a good idea. I wanna see the look on their faces when Meekrob sides with us."

"I wanna see the look on the Meekrob's faces," Skoodge said, "when they realize our tech's still under their construction!"

Purple frowned. "Who gave you permission to speak?"

"I…but _she_…"

Red spoke. "Saved you from having to explain your messy frosting skills."

I swallowed a snicker. A pang of guilt hit me for not standing up for my helper…but I reasoned I wouldn't have had anything to say, anyway.

Slacks took the stage. _These ideas are good. I can't believe the Irkens are going to vote on them._ "My plan involves beating the rebels to a pulp like we did last time, but with more prejudice!" Slack's voice imitated an Earth pro-wrestler's. The crowd loved it. "Let's crush those Resisty scum and show them we mean universal business!"

"Yeah!" Purple raised his arms and I stifled another chuckle. _Why, in hundreds of years, don't they mature past the point humans do?_

"I say we march straight up to Vort and give 'em what for with our new weapons!" Slacks enthusiastically mimed this conclusion.

"…Okay." Purple faced Red. "Maybe not the best idea, now that I think about it."

"Slacks had to make himself heard among a society of large-nostril people," the other replied. "I'm gonna go out on a limb here and call that his leftover enthusiasm."

As Slacks continued his annoying performance, I touched the metal on my right forearm with a finger, still amused at the cool, hard surface where only my sleeve showed. The laser's invisibility came in handy since I always wanted to have it around me now.

Her young, chiseled face, red hair over her shoulders, her voice, she and I flying in the cruiser…Dib and Dwicky still called, and I still contacted my father. But _she_…

The Tallest had recovered too quickly. Death was common out here, but it had taken less than three months for them. _If I mentioned her, I'd get some nods and a smile or two. _

At first, I didn't see Red holding out his glass. "Hey."

"…Sorry." I crossed to him, and he leaned over and talked to me in a low tone.

"What's going on?"

_Fake look. _"I'm fine. Just zoned out."

Red didn't look convinced, but Slack's booming promises pulled his attention. Sighing under my breath, I went to the table. Suddenly, a familiar voice filled the space behind the balcony doors. Low, raucous, every few syllables enunciated…I stopped breathing.

"Zim." My dread built until a loud knock—so loud I worried the rest of the convention hall would hear it—sounded. The doors shot open.

"Hello, my Tallest!"

They whirled around in their seats, wearing dumbfounded and horrified expressions. Red spoke as if the universe had suddenly become devoid of pink frosted donuts. _"Zim?"_

The familiar face grinned back. "Yes, it is I! Thank you for inviting me to speak, my Tallest; I'm truly flattered. Ooh—is that cinnamon?" Zim shoveled donuts in his mouth.

Taking great care to make sure my voice conveyed my mood, I addressed him. "Those. Aren't. For you."

Purple added, "What are you doing here?"

"Thsss'n' uhluht speakin evunt, n'um'nn'vader, right?"

Skoodge flinched. "You're getting crumbs everywhere! Not that that's unusual here, but still."

Red dragged a hand down his face. "I thought we told you to stay backstage and serve snacks. Were you listening during that spiel?"

"Oh, but I _have_ been serving them! These people are so greedy—one of them took _two_ artificial sugar packets: two!"

Purple rolled his eyes. "Say it isn't true."

"Not to worry, my Tallest! There'll be no nonsense on Zim's watch! I'm next to speak, aren't I?"

"…Uhh—"

"Right?"

"Well…"

"Right?"

"Zim—"

"Right?"

"Shut _up_—"

"Right?"

Several Irken elite entered the balcony. "Hey! You're supposed to be serving snow cones right now!"

Zim turned on them with an indignant look. "I will not go back into that dark soup of pushing, shoving people and condiment explosions! The Tallest are allowing me to speak!"

The elite exchanged knowing looked with the Tallest.

Purple spoke. "Zim, you're not—"

"My ideas are better than invader _Slacks._" More crumbs. "I have well-wrapped strategies—information: you have to let me speak."

"Zim—"

"Oh, _please_, my Tallest—"

"Enough!" Red balled his hands into fists. "Just shut up, go speak for five minutes, and then get back in the kitchen!"

Zim's grin and eyes grew wider. "Yes! Haha! Thank you, my Tallest!" Then, pointing at the elites, "I told you I'm not making any more snow cones! I told you!"

"You know," one of them said on their way off the balcony, "you have to come back in five minutes, right?"

The Tallest sank into their chairs. Purple waved a hand. "Where are the donuts?"

I turned to the table and groaned. "…There aren't any."

Slacks' voice: "Because we're the most awe-inspiring, deserving, fantastic Empire of all time!" Fevered applause, cheering, broke out on the ground level.

"Well—" Red turned to me, "—you should make some more."

Disappointment. Carefully, I phrased my response. "I can't…watch the end?"

"Nope. Go on. We're not getting any fuller."

"…But…"

Purple turned. "Do as you're told." His used a more familiar tone with me than with Skoodge, but his voice still held expectation.

My eyes found the stage, irritation blooming inside me. _I worked so hard. Now, I'm going to miss the vote! _"Can I please…?"

Red's glare cut me off. "Hannah. I'm not asking you again." And with that, he faced the stage. I seized the platter and the near-empty bucket, stomped toward the door, and gave Skoodge the look I wished to give Red at that moment. The crimson Tallest spoke without turning. "Someone's feeling moody today."

I stifled a growl and a rude reply, in favor of listening to the doors close with a satisfying _slam._

* * *

Minutes later, I entered the kitchen, still fuming because Zim had gotten his way. To try to take my mind off outside activities, I rolled the dough. The activity actually did calm me a bit. I looked up to see Schnell in front of me, holding out a container of nutmeg. "Rough morning?" His tone didn't expect insincerity.

"Stinking Zim ate the extras I made."

Schnell half-grimaced. "Well, good luck. We still have to listen to quite a few elites."

I sighed. "I know."

The first nutmegged batch baked, while my head filled with floating thoughts about the conference, the surrounding planets, and the next upcoming round of Empire entrance testing. Studying was hard. The batch ended up being overdone. I slammed the tray on the counter and spread more flour on my workspace. "Stupid Zim…why does Purple have to eat three at once?" I looked around and my annoyance spiked. "Hey, who took my cutters?"

No answer.

_Are you kidding me?! _Five minutes and two cutters later, I slid the next batch into the oven and went for a drink. The refrigerator area, as usual, was madness. Yells of "Where's my meat?" "Timer on burner seven," "You're mixing that wrong," and, "What moron threw cilantro on the Mork?" rang. I wove around people, found a milk jug, and seized a glass from a passing tray. _The Tallest's tea is bitter anyway._

A thump, from outside the kitchen doors. A few around me paused to stare as well. Someone: "What was that?"

Seconds passed. _Zim probably blew something up. _Back at my workstation, my fingers playing in the flour, I wondered what it had been. Most people went back to their work.

An explosive crash that jarred my brain and wiped every thought from my mind. The kitchen doors flew in, air left my lungs, and for a beat, everything was silent.

Screaming. Smoke filled the doorway. Lasers showered in, and everyone flew into action. I swung around the counter. My eyes locked on a cabinet. I climbed inside and slammed the door. From within the dark box, I heard weapons, screams, bangs, rattles, and dropped pans; glasses broke.

"Irken scum!"

My breath caught.

A cookie sheet jabbed my ribs. Death screams at the door. My heart sprinted.

Thuds and scuffles. People shouting. Talking over talking. I couldn't retreat.

"_Where is she?"_

Casual, spoken to a comrade; but with an alien dialect.

Veins chilled below my sweaty skin. Those three words rang, over and over, in my mind. Red dust. I gulped the cabinet's dwindling air. Claustrophobia. _Why?!_

A crash, outside. A keening whine escaped me.

"Split up!" A foreign dialect. Closer. "Twelve minutes!"

_Twelve minutes?...Oh, the Hall. They'll know. They'll come._

Hope.

But on Mars, they had been too late. _Get out, now. _

I flipped the switch on my forearm, and the weapon shimmered into visibility. Kicking the door, I thought, _this is dangerous, but it's better than getting shot in there._

There were no immediate rebels, so I dove behind the nearest counter. A Paetin stood twenty feet away. A boom from the other side of the room. I winced. Pieces of metal, aluminum, ceramic, food, flew over my head.

Then, next to me landed a piece with shoulders, neck, spine, and a head. A face.

I screamed.

My feet flew toward the exit—about thirty seconds away through the mess.

To my left, lasers. Light, and then ten times the strength of a spasm in my leg.

Somehow, I got out of the kitchen. Footsteps sounded behind me. Bent over, I flung myself around the corner. Distant sounds of Irkens coming. I could reach a door marked _Employees Only_ before the Irkens could reach me. Once inside, pain shot through my calf and my knees hit the floor. The door flew open again behind me. More footsteps, more corners, and I emerged into a storage room.

_Cheap, useless stuff. _I hobbled towards commemorative glass pile leapt in, scrambled amidst the crashings… the door opened.

The last glasses clinked to a stop.I struggled to control my breathing, straining to hear, hoping for Irken voices. Then, just as silence enveloped the room with me and my pursuer, one Irken voice emanated from my wrist. _"Hannah!"_

I jolted. Glasses clacked. One glass crashed. I shut off and cloaked it in less than two seconds.

It had been Red.

Footsteps, towards me.

_Think. _

_Think. _

_**Think.**_

_I can shoot him before he sees me. _

Glass exploded all around my head. I screamed, and a hand caught my wrist and hauled me out. "Get off of me!"

He twisted both arms behind me and his lips touched my ear. "I swear, if Nar hadn't ordered your capture, you'd be done right now." A cold metal pressed against my temple. "Unless you want them blown apart, obey."

I fought for breath, yearning to hold my leg. "You wouldn't blow up the people with the money...That's stupid!"

"Not them. The others. Move."

We rounded a few corners, my calf pounding, and came upon an exit. I jerked against his hold, but that only hurt me more. "We have thirty seconds. Don't fight and I won't shoot." He craned his neck around the corner.

_There's no one here. This is all so bad._ I barely registered his signal to move. My leg gave out halfway to the exit. He cursed. "Can't you stay on your feet?!"

Voices, from inside the auditorium. I remember crying as we left the Hall, and a thick hand over my mouth. We were headed for a teleporter.

I struggled as the shout came from an Irken nearby to secure those very machines. Forcing me to hold still, the rebel shoved something rough and grainy against my mouth. A foul scent started my head spinning. My vision rocked. My plea came out a muffled sound. Vomit swirled in my throat. My cheeks smarted. Lights everywhere seemed too bright. My captor was talking. I couldn't open my eyes. The last thing I registered was the teleporter light above, swallowing us up.


	2. Seeing Red

**Author's Note: I had fun with this chapter title. The chapter itself, however, is not that fun. **

**I used several songs for inspiration while writing this story, but the main one was "Loveliest Mistake" by Mor ve Ötesi, because I feel it sums up a major theme of the story. It'll all make sense eventually. For now, enjoy, review, and give me honest feedback! Thanks, guys.**

* * *

**_The Epic Battle Tournament_**

**_Part 1: Play_**

**Chapter 2: Seeing Red**

Silver gleamed pure and stainless. The floor ran perpendicularly to a set of bars. No, two sets, and then a wall. I felt cold underneath my cheek, my hands. When I moved, pain shot down my body. Crackling fireworks exploded in my ankle. The laser had taken a thin slice of flesh from my calf to my knee. It looked like I'd been operated on with a saw.

A cup sat outside my cell. Ignoring the pain, I wrapped my hands around it, lifted it to my lips, and tilted my head back. Warm water shot down my throat. I savored it before opening my eyes and seeing my surroundings. I knew these bars. I had escaped them once. The door down the hall to my left, I recognized as the one Smack had taken. There was a vent in the ceiling between my cell and the one across from me.

I had returned.

I realized whom that meant I would meet, this time alone, and shuddered. I wrapped a hand around my right forearm- a hard, cold surface. I gasped. _Whoever brought me in must not have…it doesn't matter. _The Irkens had to be looking for me. Maybe others had been taken. _Where is Smack?_

Minutes passed, and no one entered. I reassessed the area for any means of escape, but, once again, there were none.

If I used my communicator, they'd find it.

Hours later, I finally heard footsteps. Somehow, I knew.

Lard Nar finally came into view, stood at my bars, met my eyes.

I felt small. Naïve.

"Hannah." His smooth tone made the silver feel colder.

I held his gaze. "Lard Nar." Slowly, steadily, satisfactorily, the two words rolled out of my mouth.

"I'd promise you hospitality; but we know formalities are meaningless now." He smirked. "Our parting terms weren't the most…stellar."

_Keep up with him. _My hands shook. "Yeah, burning worlds and massacres—not the best terms."

"I was talking about one massacre in particular; but we don't have to go there." Lard Nar gestured to the floor. "Sit. Finest flooring in the universe." He joined me on the floor, crossed his legs. "Adolescents like stories where you're from, don't they? So do our children. We usually tell them tales of technological wonders, or lands of couches…"

Every once in a while, there's a hollowness in your chest that makes you wish you had a blanket—a hiding place—or that life didn't seem so real.

_Red would demand to know what's going on. _"Get on with it."

"Patience, girl. Goodness. There lived a girl, a lot like you, who happened to be stupid enough to get captured, and too naïve to realize she was on the wrong side of a war."

"That's enough."

"Oh, no. You haven't heard the juiciest part."

"I don't want to hear the—"

"You want to know why you're here?" His tone could have sliced through the bars. "Listen. So this girl—the one who isn't you—falls for an alien leader."

My face felt numb. "You know?"

"You expected your presence on the _Massive_ to go unnoticed by everyone else?"

"I…" I shook my head. "This is not…how I pictured…" _Breathe, stupid. _"…I thought this would be…death threats and…violence."

Why was he staring so much?! "You've spent too much time on the _Massive. _The moral of the story is, I found out about your roof conversation."

I felt my mouth fall open. As childish as it was, I reacted. "How?!"

"Your friend's link."

"…Where _is_ Smack?"

Unwavering: "We thought their method of punishment would be appropriate."

A violent jolt shook me. "N…no."

"Uh." Nar's expression said this should be obvious. "Yes."

I could clearly see Smack's face in my mind's eye—calling my room, outside this very cell, chuckling at Red… My façade broke completely. "Oh Earth, he's _dead_?!"

"He's not the only one dead because of them."

"What do you mean?!" I shouted, teeth bared. "He died because of you! Because of your sick…" I couldn't find the will to speak. Ruza, and then Smack…I felt a huge weight on my heart.

"He died because of them. Because of _them,_ the rest of us are forced to take measures to ensure our survival."

Indignant rage burned inside me as I met his eyes.

Lard Nar continued. "Some of those measures hurt even us."

"Don't you ever say 'us.'" Sitting across the way from the lord of the rebellion, my insides started trembling again. My anger ebbed as fear replaced it.

"Did you know I was married?"

Another breath gone, I had to support myself with my arms. Through my sleeves, they felt cold. I couldn't grasp or process everything at once. "What does that have to do with anything?!"

"Everything." Nar took something from around one of his horns and held it out for me to see. "Do you know what this is?"

He was moving too fast. Tears pooled in my eyes. "How could I?...What's…?" A silver, metal object. "Some technology of your people?"

"Our people, in the throes of the Irken invasion, invented a way to delve into one another's minds without detection." His tone seemed less candied. "Prototypes had been tested in the labs; but once we lost control of the research stations, we distributed the devices amongst ourselves. It acquired the nickname Gray Matter."

Mind reeling, I asked, "Is that possible? To read someone's mind?! How?!...And why would I want to see _anything_ in your head?"

Nar's eyes flashed. "Put it on."

I saw the little device in his hand, but studied him: green, goggled eyes, his form sitting at my cell, his demeanor calmer than I'd ever seen—and more pointed. He had another device around his horn-it resembled an earpiece. I reached out and took the one he offered me, my eyes never leaving his.

That's how I knew when the look inside them changed.

"…You haven't…shared this with your crew, have you? What you're about to show me."

Ten seconds before he affirmed my guess, and twenty before he elaborated. "They never needed to know."

"Why," I asked, "because you all already agree the Tallest are animals?!" As the silence stretched on, uncomfortably, I realized whatever he had in mind had to be different from the widespread destruction everyone had already seen everywhere. It had to be something I couldn't anticipate. I met his eyes again. "Okay…Okay."

Nar hesitated before switching on his half of the device. "It's going to be darker. It's going to smell, badly."

I realized I had nothing to hold onto. My thoughts sped up. _Will this change my beliefs? _In my ear, the device warmed and vibrated slightly. The silver and the lights around me blurred.

A short snap of blackness gave way to chipped paint and muted colors. The atmosphere cloaked everything in darkness. I felt gravel beneath me.

Next, the smell—like garbage bins, public restrooms, and rot—decay— together. The wall in front of me wasn't the source. I lifted my hand, slowly extended it, and met scabbed, rugged paint. Jerking slightly, I pulled back. My question came out in a breath. "What is this?"

_**An Irken prison. **_

This time, I spasmed, and screamed. "What?! What's going on?" I looked around the alley for Lard Nar, but he wasn't anywhere to be seen. That had been his voice. Down one way, the alley led to a street, flanked on the other side by more buildings. As for the building in front of me, it ran a long way in the other direction. There was a door in its side, accentuated by a dim lamp and a circle of illuminated gravel. "I didn't agree to this!" I chanted it over and over.

_**Calm down. **_

"Where are you?!" I shouted.

_**I'm just in your head.**_

"…_What?!"_

_**Focus. I told you, the technology is telepathic.**_

Above the alley, in the thin strip of sky I could see, stars sprinkled black. I slowly got to my feet. My legs shook.

_**Go on.**_

Knowing somehow he meant me to head for the door, I stepped toward the weak light. In the slit of a window, my reflection stared back at me. _No harm in making sure... _"I go in there?"

_**You know you don't have to whisper, right?**_

"You're freak…" _You're freaking me out. _I made sure my mental tone conveyed harshness. My gaze tilted up to take in the stars..._This entire place…his people, his history. _

I felt my own year in space had been very short.

_**Go inside.**_

My hand wrapped around the rectangular handle, and I stepped into even more complete darkness. The stench here proved even more powerful. My eyes adjusting to the light, a turn became visible, along with a distant glow—the promise of another lamp. Suddenly, I had a foreboding that people who walked here never turned around—never came back. Unsure if this resulted from Lard Nar being inside my head, I focused on taking small steps, one hand on the cool, rough wall, and rounded the corner.

_**My first turn using **_**Gray Matter**_** revolved around yelling at my Director to stop bossing me around, so we're doing pretty well thus far. **_

_Director? _My steps sounded muted. _Is that you? And where am I going? And why are you so…docile?_

_**This is personal. **_

The hallway spat me into a huge room, with a towering dome, the floor of which cells overran completely. The passages, unlike those on the _Colossal, _haphazardly drizzled around each individual cage. This produced a kind of zoo-esque feel. Black, iron poles in between the prisoners and me…dim lighting. It looked like a scene out of a 19th century European novel…which confused me, because Irken anythings always proved neat and futuristic and took on their signature shade, which was nowhere to be found.

To my left, one of the cages held a Vortian whose face, turned away from me, was directed towards the floor. As I drew near this first exhibit, I paused, fearing he'd hear me.

_**They can't. They're not really here. They're figments of my memory. **_

I didn't move.

_**Listen! I've walked this path before. You can traverse its impersonation as well. Just listen to me. **_

_Was _he_ here, too? _

Ten seconds, and a mutual mental picture. _**Yes. **_

On either side of me, Vortians and others filled cages- standing, sitting, waiting. I wondered when most of them would be tried.

_**Don't hold your breath. Most of these won't be addressed for years.**_

_Years?! _Their expressions seemed downcast. A few looked around with an energy. I passed a crinkled Vortian with yellowed horns, sagging skin. Slumped back.

_They killed your spirit._

_**Every one.**_

A heaviness settled on my chest, my heart, that transformed into a deep, weighted sorrow. If my head and heart had been soaked in towels, spun on a merry-go-round, and thrown out a window to dry, I couldn't have felt more disoriented than I did in that moment. I couldn't process it. I couldn't breathe, looking at them. My world was flipping upside down.

_**Decades of imprisonment. No sunlight. No creativity. No making anything…not even couches.**_

_Couches…are important to your people, aren't they? _

_**We can contribute something to the universe—technology, as well. **_

_The human race can better it, too!_ _We aren't just a question mark at the edge of the universe._

_**To your left, straight ahead, there's a door.**_

_They won't notice me opening it?_

_**These are recollections. They don't really exist. You're not on the same field.**_

The next door yielded a small, dark room with a bright white corner sectioned off with glass. Inside the little white chamber, a panel in the wall slid open to spit out a Vortian female and a single Irken guard. The guard wore the uniform, blood-red against the darker hues of Vort. Knowing they couldn't see me, I stepped towards the glass.

A door to my left slid open, but I ignored it in favor of focusing on the female. Her eyes matched Purple's in shade, but appeared infinitely softer and rounder, with three small lashes each. Her brown jumpsuit was typical of what I'd seen in the other room. As the Irken pushed her to the ground and exited, two figures to my left struggled. I turned to see another Irken guard grappling with a Vortian male.

My heart jumped at the familiar face of the latter. Shorter horns, with the brown jumpsuit…but the likeness…my gaze switched between the two prisoners. I felt very awake.

_Is this your…?!_

The guard forced the male Vortian into another, smaller, glass chamber that afterwards lit up red.

_**Security**__, _**t**he voice within my head said. His presence eased me a bit.

_Why is it red?_

_**The walls are infused with motion-activated lasers. It's an implementation of one of the overseers.**_

Neither of the cages were soundproofed. I could hear the male's shouts as his locks clicked.

The panel in the female's chamber slid back again. Everyone in the room looked toward it, and the person entering.

For a few seconds, I stood, in shock, and stared at one of the overseers. Then, the entire scenario began to become clear. Red chatted with the female, but I didn't have the willpower to register their words. The future ruler of the Resisty watched them from his cage.

_You're…are you showing me her death?_ No response. My feet chilled. My head buzzed.

Red smirked at the younger model of Lard Nar—a smirk just like the ones he'd thrown around on the balcony yesterday. "How's the rent?" His voice dripped with sarcasm.

"What do you think this is accomplishing?!" Young Lard Nar replied.

"What?" Red's used a light tone. "We're just chatting. Easy, Lard Nar. You're not in a position to stress me out."

"Where's the other one?" The female looked into Red's eyes from her position on the floor. A frown pulled at the edges of her mouth. "The other Tallest?"

He shrugged—again, familiarly. "He doesn't care for these sorts of things."

"He doesn't care for '_just chatting_?'"

Red's eyes narrowed. I knew that expression. "You know—" I knew that cold tone. "I hoped we could have a peaceful conversation about the Freedom Society. I haven't _done_ anything yet. But I can speed up the process if you want to keep talking without permission, Nar." Now, silence. Red addressed the female. "I want to know about the hundreds of insubordinates who fought back, went into hiding. Their names were scrambled on the system drives. You're their leaders. You know about them."

"_**I want, I want I want..."**_

I jumped.

_**That's a common phrase of his. **_

_You scared me._

The female spoke. "If you think we're going to be persuaded this easily, then you're a fool."

"Really?" Red's playful tone chilled me more than his sinister glares. He was like a snake. _This is wrong._ "'Fool'…I don't know about that. Maybe I can't get any information out of you; but your mate is a different story."

_Why hasn't this ever been so clear to me before?_

_**You haven't yet glimpsed clarity.**_

I took a slow, deep breath, resolving to watch the entire thing.

"I won't tell you anything," Younger Nar said, "if you do anything."

Red's eyes flashed and he grinned. "An ultimatum…you should both be thanking me. After you cretins screwed the experiment that _killed our monarch, _any restraint on our part is gracious by other planets' standards."

The wife blinked her gorgeous eyes. "I dare you to cite one source for that."

"What?" Red grinned. "Your murder, or our supreme graciousness?"

Her delicate voice didn't stop her tone from cutting through the air. "Everyone, on every planet, knows what you are. Maybe there's a stupid, secluded world out there that doesn't know it yet; but everyone who knows you knows you are monsters."

"Our late treaty with your people disagrees."

Young Nar spat, and where it met the grid, the lasers sizzled. "You and your superficial treaties can burn."

Red nodded. "Then I'll be having dinner early." He pulled something from his PAK and held it out to Nar. "This came from Callnowia."

Younger Nar's eyes widened. "That's not a laser..."

"No." Red's expression was blank. "I ordered it on a whim." He pressed a button on the wand-like machine and something spilled out one side—strings, or…

_A whip. _

"Each time I ask for a name, you're going to give it to me. I don't have to explain the concept of incentive to you."

Young Lard Nar spoke up. "You had no right to force our people into hiding! You have no right to take ourresearch stations! We don't have to give you any information!"

"Okay. See…" Red undid the back of the female's jumpsuit. "That would be uncalled for and," he nodded to the side, "unacceptable. Get down."

"No. Wait—"

Red drew his arm back and I fought to keep my eyes on the chamber. Quickly, almost effortlessly, he struck her with the whip. She jerked, and curled into herself, but didn't make a single sound.

Frustration thrashed within me. This Red hadn't taken me driving_…_

Red turned his attention to the Vortian male. "'_Wait?_' Oops. Was that going to be a name? Maybe you should tell it to me now."

Seething. "You vile—"

Red tsked, turned, brought the whip down again. "Guess what?" This time she grunted. "This has lots of settings. I don't want to give away anything; but I think I'll be getting some names."

"They obviously failed," she said, her face turned away from me. "Why do you care where they are?"

The whip again. A strangled cry this time.

I saw the female looked at her husband. Young Nar's expression steeled. He looked at Red. "…They're too honorable to be repeated by your filthy lips."

"That's unfortunate."

Now she screamed. Her raw voice filled the chamber.

_Lard Nar, don't make me watch. There'll be so much blood…_It already drew lines across her back. A different color drew the lines, but it was the same. The very same. _Is it okay for me to feel like vomiting?_

_**If you're asking if you're allowed to feel anything, your past year has been very much worse than I thought.**_

…_I didn't mean it like that. _

_**Sure you didn't. And you didn't mean what you said about this not being "your" Red earlier, either.**_

_It's not! He's…changed._

_**Has he?**_

"You'll show me the respect I deserve! You Vortians are all scum!" Another swing.

"Net!" Young Nar called.

_Red overreacts to everything, everyone. _

No comment came in my head, but I felt the Director's approval course through my brain like a tidal wave.

"You'll never have the prestige," Net yelled, "of a Vortian _janitor_!"

Red's arm muscles actually clenched this time. Above her scream, I registered my own aching realization that this person I loved had done everything of which Lard Nar had accused him. How had I never seen this before?

"Stop!" Young Nar's tone begged.

The next thirty seconds had fewer words. Until now, I'd only ever seen the Tallest use their arms to lift snacks, push themselves out of chairs, or…that one time, Red had shoved me.

Now it proved clear: _I've been living with killers. _

Insults flew between the males—Net had lost the time to respond. Her back was dark and wet, her screaming more strained. I wondered that she hadn't slumped over yet.

That came soon enough. Again and again—Red wasn't asking for names. Young Lard Nar pleaded. _Why doesn't he stop?! He's done enough!_

_**She's alive.**_

I didn't want to watch Red turn up the settings on the whip. I didn't want to see his hateful expression. I wanted to clamp my hands over my ears to shut out all the screaming.

Blood spewed from her mouth. They had moved around the cell. Eventually, she didn't move anymore.

_**After a time, the blood loss—**_

_Please stop!_ I wanted the silver hall.

But I knew I owed this to everyone here, including myself.

Bright bursts of light crawled across Net's shoulders and back. She screamed, yelped, writhed.

"Get off of her!" Young Nar made contact with the grid. A male shriek ripped through the room. I wondered if the outside could hear.

Red's yells sounded feral—I couldn't even make out his words any more. I crouched on the ground, my stomach knotting, trying to tear my eyes from the yolk-like blood splattering and tracing the glass in front of me.

I shut my eyes, curled into myself, and tried to escape…I knew Red's voice too well to pretend it wasn't he. Nothing I could ever do could stop this from happening.

I found myself looking straight at the thing I knew was only a figment of the Tallest, and screaming at it anyway. "Stop this, Red! This isn't accomplishing anything!"

I saw him reach for something in his PAK and my mind numbed instantly. The rest of my body followed. In that moment, amongst Young Nar's feverish cries, my mouth opened and I choked on the nonexistent words rushing to get out of my throat.

A gun fired in the glass chamber.

_**He'll go to dinner now. You know.**_

I never wanted to see him again.

Darkness, behind my eyelids. The sound of weeping and the lack of one person's breath permeated my ears.

Then, in the darkness, brightness began to appear. The sounds faded away; and gradually, my breathing slowed to a walk. The light and silence comforted me.

I opened my eyes.

My hall, my cell, my time. Safety.

Lard Nar's eyes rose to mine, calm. Like he'd relived the scene who-knew-how-many times. He'd been calm the entire time. I wondered what reliving that a hundred times did to someone.

"I spent five years in that prison after she died."

…_Not even as long as some others._

_**No.**_

I sucked in a breath, yanked the device out of my ear, and handed it over to him. The bars around our hands made clearer sense than ever to me.

"That was one life." His stare didn't waver. "One."

_He has this kind of perspective?_

"How is that different from what you did to Ruza?" My voice sounded very small. "Smack?"

Lard Nar's eyes sobered. "They only suffered what proved necessary."

I felt numb. "…What are you…going to do…?"

"If I held you hostage, they'd get comfortable. I'm not taking any chances this way…the tournament will ensure they're distracted for as long as I need them to be."

Recognition—news stories, conversations, came to mind- and I struggled to hold back another sob. I'd learned about this. The Tallest had been scared of it. It had been outlawed for loss of life before the Irken-Resisty war!

Lard Nar looked at me…stood…stepped back from my cell. "I'll have food brought. I'm sorry…but you had to see."

I nodded without thinking. For the first time ever, I saw. "…I know."

Through the terror that plagued my brain, I realized, sitting cross-legged there on the floor, I'd never look at, talk to, or think about the Tallest the same way again.


	3. The Box

**Author's Note: Let's take a tour of Jagger, shall we? But first…**

**Review responses. These are fun.**

**Zora: I don't know if Fanfiction was taking a long time, or if people just weren't reviewing that quickly…and despite how devious it would be to throw everyone into shock from the get-go, I do want you all to be able to process the story somewhat, so that would be detrimental to my purposes. **** That being said, your Caps Lock rage session over chapter two did amuse me. I'm sorry you had to endure that disorientation; trust me when I say it will pay off in the long run…I'm pretty sure. This story is a lot darker than the first, but I also think the quality will prove better. Thanks so much for being loyal, and please keep reviewing: I enjoy getting your reviews.**

**Guest: Wow, that's a lotta capitalized yeses. I'm excited YOU'RE excited! Thank you for the compliment on chapter one—I must have combed that document ten times looking for errors, and there were still some. So thanks for boosting my morale over the opening chapter! **

**Hmez: Yes, the tournament has much to be revealed! And THANKS! I've seen so many OCs make the transition from "alien scum" to "right hand Irken mistress/queen/helper/you're-the-most-beautiful-thing-in-the-universe person" in under five days. It's hard even for me to remember Irkens as a whole are canonically racist. I appreciate your compliment **

**ShySilentWriter: Yes, I feel the same way: "I finally uploaded a chapter!" I'll be so happy to get the entire thing finished. Thanks for your support! You shall have more! And I know, the last chapter was shocking. Stick with me, though—things get happier. Holistically speaking.**

**Guest (Are the "Guests" different people or the same person?): Yes, Chapter 2 will factor into the rest of the story, especially for Hannah. It's just one of those things that had to be introduced early for reasons not yet known to you readers **

**Steve rules: I actually made up the name Ruza, or else I've never heard of anyone with that name. It just came to me one day, and I liked the way it sounded—almost like it fit her personality.**

**The **_**Massive **_**gang will make an appearance soon. Promise. For now, though, let's watch a landing.**

* * *

_**The Epic Battle Tournament**_

_**Part 1: Play**_

**Chapter 3: The Box**

"Lard Nar, please." The lock shot across in the silent hallway.

"I'm not going to be persuaded by anything. They've already tried. And anyway, we're here."

The last time this door had swung open for me, I'd been filled with joy and relief. Now, I couldn't breathe. My legs shook._ Jagger. _"Please. You don't want to do this. You're mad at _him."_

"Save your breath." As the guard reached to grab me, I turned so my left side faced him. He took that arm, and we three walked.

Fear pumped through my veins. I struggled with each step, fighting the urge to fight.

"The Transportation used to be aired, a hundred years ago. Security always requires check-in of potential contestants." I'd been in the dark about the tournament for a week; so Nar speaking again was relieving.

I forced the question out. "What's 'Transportation'?"

Another door, another passage, I recognized as leading to the launching deck. "It's a communal yet exclusive event—the time sponsors bring contestants to the planet. Say someone else wanted you—for commissions, obviously. There's competition. Check-in gives me rights to your commissions."

"You mean, people bet on…?" Nar smirked. The deck, and its ships, loomed before us. "So what happens after check-in, until the tournament?"

"You think I know that kind of stuff? The cameras didn't show everything. Certain areas are off limits to anyone but contestants."

We loaded into a ship with four other rebels. For a while, we drove in silence—it was awkward. When the ship turned, though, I caught my first glimpse of it. First, I saw just a sliver of blue. As it thickened, it became clear Jagger's circumference really wasn't that large compared to planets like Earth, Conventia, Callnowia... _So that's how they can have three thousand contestants and not just have everyone hide._

"So...what did the Irkens say?"

Lard Nar's voice was low, directed out the window. "They're happy you're off their hands and wished you'd made food more quickly."

I sighed. "You're hilarious." _Am I really joking around with the leader of the Resisty?_

As I watched other ships join ours in descent, I pondered the repercussions of a universal audience. If the Irkens watched…would they do whatever they could to keep me alive? Lard Nar moved to the window. I followed his gaze to see the ground much closer now- small planet meant thin atmosphere.

The buildings were dark grey. Windows dotted their faces—squares of faint lime and blues. Below, worn asphalt carried many people. Sky and streets bustled. I couldn't take in the too many surfaces, alcoves, buildings, and building clumps. Everything looked advanced but dilapidated. Tall, narrow buildings rose out of the jungle. The ships around us just made the entire thing more claustrophobic. "Jaggerions live in the safe half," Lard Nar said. "They also monitor the tournament from over here."

The sky's shade of beautiful dark blue resembled Earth's evening sky. I could almost imagine Jagger had similar celebrations to Earth, the way some areas were adorned with decorations- colored displays, glamorous pinks, showers of sparkles that would put Disney World out of business. Something resembling a ferris wheel spun sideways, two hundred feet in the air. As we passed, I glimpsed wine glasses atop round tables where people sat across from each other. On another floating building, a golden fountain shimmered, surrounded by emerald plants. _And this planet's in the red?_

As we descended toward what I could see in the distance appeared to be a broad, gigantic building, I saw a sign and then froze.

Below, among the low rooftops, it was checkered red and white, with neon cherry letters. The familiar name was surprising, but it also made sense. He'd told me it was here.

I found myself tearing up.

A minute later, our ship lowered with the others into an enormous lot in front of the huge building I'd seen from a distance.

Nar faced me. "There are tons of people here. People who will see you if you try to run." The guards moved towards the door. "I'm not going to insult you by cuffing you; you understand that gives you responsibility." I nodded. His look seemed to be appraising me. "Somehow, I think you're more mature than most of the contestants here."

"What do you mean?"

We stepped out into the dim day. I saw others disembarking, heading for the building. Apparently, it was called The Box. Gargantuan, slate gray, with tiny yellow windows running across its rectangular top. Behind it, other brown skyscrapers towered, before a shimmering something in the sky—its surface reminded me of a pool at night. Others pointed at it. A yell grabbed my attention.

"Help! No! I'm not gonna go! No! No! Help me!" A struggle. A group of one species, converging on a single figure from another one. Blows. Restraining.

Lard Nar kept pace with me, the guards in front. "That's what I mean."

"...What is that thing?" I pointed to the pool-like force field.

"They cloak that half so passing ships can't preview it."

It made sense, although, without knowing what the nature of the prize, I moodily mused about the futility of knowing what the tournament half looked like if you didn't even know the prize. I had to crane my neck to see the top of the Box. We joined a long, long line that snaked around the building. I inwardly groaned. I wondered if Lard Nar was doing the same.

"This is going to take hours," one of the guards finally said.

_The least they can do while dropping me off for my death is wait. _Any company made me grateful. On the other side of that door, I would be a first-time boarder, again. And my chances of survival here were smaller than the day of the First Skirmish.

_Red's and Purple's company would be nice._ I realized what I'd thought and felt disgusted…but also lonely. Looking around at all the people, I reflected on how all of us were going to our death. _What is Jagger thinking? __They could just fundraise! At least the sides of the war had motivation for murder, as sick as that is._

Seemingly, hours passed. Nervous, angry, and curious conversations, the occasional scuffle to the side. When we finally got close enough to the door, I spotted a scanner over it that flashed a few times every person who stepped through.

There were a few sparks.

One of the Vortians asked, "What's up with their tech?"

"Jagger's in the red," Nar's tone was on edge. "They can't afford anything better."

"Well, how are they supposed to-?"

As we passed through the doorway, I inhaled sharply_. _

...Nothing.

...Still nothing. _Praise this place and it's old door scanners. _It hadn't noticed.

The line eventually sidled the interior walls of the Box—warped, rusted, decaying things that intersected with the edges of a crummy, blackened floor. On the far end, desks like luggage check-ins served as a backdrop to the officers patrolling the snaking line. To the left, a sign over a broad passageway held many titles. _Claimings _was one. I'd heard that word throughout our adventure in line. People came to "claim" you—rescue you, plead legal ownership of you.

I turned to Lard Nar. "So, you're not letting the Irkens follow us, but they can come to Claim me? Did you even think this over?"

"Don't question me, you ignorant girl. There is a Claiming deadline."

The line wasn't even moving. If I excused myself to the restroom and called... _It could be that simple. _Lard Nar stared at one of the screens that were mounted all over the walls. _I could ask. Lard Nar doesn't lack that much decency. _I opened my mouth.

"What is that?" An officer stomped over to and loomed over a shackled Plookesian.

"Uhh..." The guy met his Transporter's eyes. "Just a...an accessory. You know...it's...fashionable. It reminds me of home- please don't...!" He cowered ridiculously. _Something to hide, too. _

"Really?" The officer asked, running a finger over a device on the creature's chest before roughly removing it.

"Ouch."

"Then why does it have a Taser here?"

_Snap._

Realization showed in the Plookesian's eyes. He lunged toward the officer. "It's mine!"

His Transporter held him back, shouting, and the officer tossed the device into a plain metal can. When the can's lid closed, a faint roaring sounded; and when it opened again, faint tendrils of smoke spewed into the air.

I drew in a breath and faced forward in line. _I will not speak. I will not try to call. I will not be seen. _My stomach lurched.

We could now overhear the conversations at the check-in desks. The Jaggerion employees looked as if they were formed out of huge diamonds—I could see why they'd been nicknamed blue-skins. One of them handed something over to a group. I saw Nar watching, as well. "Contestant's room key…and your Transporter's."

I looked around at our group, starting to catch on.

"What?" Lard Nar sounded breathless—a new development, to me.

I turned to him. "You're staying?"

"I...I didn't know!"

"You don't know anything."

" Hey! You." He pulled aside a wandering officer. "We're free to go, right?"

"If you want to risk her-" he pointed to me, "—getting Claimed, then sure. The whole idea is to stay through the first day, pal—new regulation."

"Don't call me _pal." _Nar pushed away the guard. His pupils shrank, if that was possible. "I can't stay here. I have an armada to lead."

The Vortians wore worried looks. "We're not going in, too, are we, boss?"

One of the desk workers called, "Next!...Name?" I stared at Lard Nar, turned, and my name. The male's gaze landed on Nar, and he froze. "You're the leader of the Resisty."

The aforementioned's frown deepened. "Would you like a megaphone?"

"Sorry." The official typed. "Planet of residency?"

"Earth," I muttered.

"How old?"

"Eighteen."

After a few more questions, he retrieved things from below the desk. "You are under Jaggerion authority until further notice. Contraband will be burned, weapons are punishable by death…" My breath caught. The volume was such in the room that nobody heard…at least, I hoped. _I'm going to die for sure._

A small stack of brochures was pushed across the desk toward me. "Starting information. Next."

We made our way with others toward the back door. Over the exit, a huge screen displayed brightly colored bar graphs—percentages of each race. _I'll have to scope out potential allies. _

"I can't believe this." They'd allowed Nar to keep his communicator. "Hey. Schloontapooxis. I'm stuck here for four days." I rifled through the papers as I listened to him talk. _'Advising Sessions…' _"I know! It's for some formality... I know." _'Eve Letters'…what? "_Take the four I'm sending back and just drive around for a bit. Pick up any supplies. I'll be back Day One." _'Eve Letters' just sound supernatural. _"Yes…Okay." He hung up and growled. Before us loomed several narrow skyscrapers: living complexes. The slipshod architecture didn't look safe. Lard Nar and I walked with the masses and I scanned the scraps in my hand.

"Doing some reading?"

I sighed, shrugged. "'_Contestants may attend as many advising sessions as they deem necessary…Belated Eve Letters and any other written sentiments will not be delivered.'"_

"_I _don't even know what that means."

"So which building is ours?"

Lard Nar looked at the keys. "...4110. Good luck finding that."

"That probably means the first floor of Four. That's good- we can get out easily."

Each building had a giant number sign that rested near the top, from about the ninetieth floor up. A significantly smaller pool of people entered Four's lobby with us. Even less passed the elevator with us. I realized the pair of footsteps beside me had ceased, and turned.

Nar stood at the elevator, casting a devious smirk at me. "We're not roommates."

"...What?"

"You're in 4110. The Transporters for this building stay in the penthouse." Nar held up his key and tossed the other towards me.

I stared. Loneliness swallowed me even more. "...Well..." I hated that I began to choke up. "Good luck explaining why _you_ of all people has to stay in this dump of a building." I picked up the key and stomped away, swerving to avoid someone.

_4110…4110…4110._

_Finally._ The door made a thick _chunk_ as it opened. I flicked on the light. Small room—single bed, table, and window. _Good,__ I don't need anyone clogging my space._ My _Massive _room dwarfed this one_. _About ten by ten, it had room for the bed, a table, and some weird capsule on the right wall that looked like a shower but had no showerhead. I guessed the bathroom was down the hall. _Yay, community bathrooms!_ On the bright side, my window had a view of something besides the back of a giant number four.

I knelt on the bed to peer out of the warped glass. Between the browned areas, I saw the building directly across from mine, and, far down the road to my left, the shield. To the right, I glimpsed the Box, which blocked most of the city from view. The little I could see of real Jagger looked newer—probably advanced and luxurious. I wished we could eat at places like the horizontal Ferris wheel restaurant.

Next, I crossed to the "shower capsule." Standing outside, the circular chamber without a glass door didn't look like much. The only thing of noteworthiness inside was the light in the ceiling. A plaque on the wall beside the capsule caught my eye.

_**Jagger is not liable for death accidents in this capsule. Mind your vital parts.**_

_...Well, thanks for that tutorial. _

When I stepped inside, nothing happened. When I stared at the wall for a good ten seconds, still nothing happened. When I moved to step back out, the room disappeared—something lowered in front of me. The walls seemed to be closing in—I screamed. Things touched me, all over. I jerked, screamed, my hands made contact with the walls. Writhing to avoid the mechanical arms, I thought, _I'm going to die! _

The light flickered, some mechanism in the door wheezed, and it reopened with a hiss, spitting me onto the floor. Pain raced, throbbed, through my arm. I clutched it. _What the heck just…?!_

I first noticed blue at my elbow—a sleeve. The same shade crawled down my body, and legs—a new uniform. The Jaggerion logo rested where a nametag would. My hair was off my neck—I reached up to find it in a hair tie of some sort. The sleeve felt weird—I wanted full sleeves, like I'd always had in space. I wanted my clothes back. A jolt of panic shot through me—I reached for my right forearm. Invisible metal. _But how…?_

"_Hello._" A black screen popped out of the wall.

"Ah!...Okay, I am _sick_ of things coming out of nowhere!"

"_This is your personal news feed, covering all the latest updates and reports." _The screen burst into colored life, showing two anchors behind a desk. I couldn't hear their voices. "_It is a valuable resource for learning about Registration, Entry, Sponsor, and Gameplay."_

_"Gameplay'… _"So…are you an interface, or an automated, 'have-to-watch-until-I—come—across—the—answ—?'"

"_Thank you for partaking of the clothing disposal services. Your uniform will be your only provided wear for the duration of the tournament. Please take care of it. If you have any questions, figure it out for yourself." _

The voices of the two anchors filled the room. The male and female really did look formed out of huge diamonds. "_What we're looking at this year is a ripe harvest of some of our most common competing races."_

_"Yes." _The male smiled. "_We've already had loads of Meekrob dropped off- probably because of the devastating hit they took last year."_

_"The Nhar-Gh'ok have also made an interesting reappearance- we assume this is because their kind is quite small and therefore easy to capture." _

_Poor Nhar-Gh'ok...it's interesting how they skim over the war. _The Jaggerions' reputation for being neutral must have been telling after all.

"_We already have two hundred registered Nhar-Gh'ok. Other races from today include Screwhead, Plookesian, and Planet Jackers."_

_"It's certainly been an exciting day at the Box. Of course, as always, the tournament website is updated every five to ten minutes, so if you're a spectator joining us, you'll want to keep an eye on the stats." _

_"We want to sincerely wish everyone a great tournament. From Box Studio Ten, this has been Jaggerion News. We'll be back in four minutes with the local news and tournament guidelines for all forms of participants. Stay tuned."_

The door _chunked_ again as I opened it and peered into the hallway. What if there were cameras everywhere? I still couldn't risk a call. A door down the hall opened. A small figure stepped out. His skin was the shade of pink lemonade, and a flap of it ran smoothly over his head and fell behind his neck, like hair. Dressed in berry clothing, probably around the size of a twelve-year-old human…we soon locked eyes.

He spoke first. "Hi."

"Hi." _He hasn't used the disposal yet. _"Did you just get in?"

"Yeah...where are you from?"

"…Earth. You?"

"I'm Callnowian."

"...I...hadn't known..." I felt self-conscious.

"Yeah, most people don't know we exist. We work behind the scenes...there aren't a lot of us."

I felt a pang of guilt. "You're here because of the war." He nodded. "...I'm sorry. I boarded with the Irkens."

His eyes widened. "No."

I rolled my eyes. "I know you don't believe me. We were hitchhikers."

"…Will you come with me? I don't want to do the clothing machine…alone."

I wasn't sure if we were allowed to enter other rooms, but this boy reminded me of the kids. I didn't want to leave him alone if I could be there. "…Sure."

His room was a mirror image of mine. As we approached his capsule, I felt it necessary to introduce myself properly. "I'm Hannah. I'm a human. We're from the planet Earth- it's an outlying one."

"Never heard of it. I'm Diablo." _Interesting name! This day just keeps handing out surprises. _He hesitated. "Do I just...step in?"

"Yeah. It'll close and do its…thing. Don't struggle. It'll be okay."

Eventually, Diablo turned and stepped into the chamber. He immediately faced me, eyes wide. I gave him a reassuring look until the capsule closed, and listened to his shriek.

I have to give the kid props—he walked out, instead of stumbling. His forearms emerged from his short sleeves, a slightly darker pink.

"How was it?" I offered a smile.

"Terrible."

"…I know."

A screen popped out of the wall. The automated spiel began again.

I told him, "The news anchors are too peppy."

We listened to a few seconds before Diablo told me our building had a diner in the lobby.

I strove for an upbeat tone. "Really? Let's do it."

Anything to keep us occupied.

A few other figures wandered our hall. I briefly wondered if we'd get to know our neighbors for the next four days. A mental image of Lard Nar sipping champagne and chatting with the other Transporters made me want to growl.

_His communicator...if only I could've gotten my hands on it. But I shouldn't think about that now._Instead, Diablo and I got to know each other as we discussed what sandwiches sounded the best off the menu.


End file.
